In due course, Govindalal got Bhramar’s letter. ‘What a terrible letter,’ he thought. ‘There is no tenderness, no mention of six years of separation. I mentioned that in my letter. Is it the same Bhramar?’
Govindalal replied, ‘I shall not go to Haridragram. Send me a monthly allowance so that I can live here.’
Bhramar wrote back, ‘I shall send you five hundred rupees monthly. I could send more but I fear it would be squandered. I think that it would be better if you were to come here and enjoy the income of your property. You must not leave your native village for me. My days are coming to an end.’
Govindalal stayed on in Calcutta. Both felt it was the best thing to do.
14
Seventh Year
BHRAMAR’S DAYS REALLY WERE COMING TO AN END. HER TERRIBLE ILLNESS could no longer be kept in check with medicines, as it had been for so long. She was wasting away. In’the month of Aghrayan, she took to her bed and never again left it. Madhavinath himself came to stay with her and organize medical treatment, all in vain. Yamini too came to nurse her sister at the last stage of her life.
Bhramar did not respond to treatment. Thus passed the month of Poush. In Magh, Bhramar gave up taking medicines; ‘I won’t take medicines any more,’ she told Yamini. ‘Next month is Phalgun.7 I wish to die on’the full-moon night. See to it, sister, that a full-moon night does not escape me. And if I survive the full-moon night, ensure my death by giving me a secret pinch. I must die that night. Please do not forget that, sister.’
Yamini wept, but Bhramar refused medicines. Her illness got worse but she was calm. She had not laughed or made jokes for the last six years, but now she was full of laughter and fun, like a lamp flaring up before it finally goes out.
During the last few days, Bhramar seemed calm, contented and cheerful. At last the terrible day arrived. From Yamini’s tears, from the agitated look of the other people in’the house, from the pain in her own body, Bhramar knew her time had come. She called her sister. ‘Sister, this is my last day.’ Yamini wept and did not reply. Bhramar continued, ‘I have some requests to make and you must grant them today. My first request is that you must not cry today. You can cry when I am dead. I can’t come back to stop you. But today I want to say a few words to you, when I am still capable of saying them, before I die. My second request is that you alone stay with me now. I shall see everyone in’time, but I wish to be alone with you now. Make sure that nobody comes here. This is my last chance to speak to you alone.’
How much longer could Yamini keep back her tears?
Gradually the day ended and it was night. ‘Is it a moonlit night?’ Bhramar asked.
Yamini opened a window and said, ‘There is a beautiful moonlight outside.’
Bhramar said, ‘Then open all the windows. Let me die looking at the moonlight. Are there any flowers below that window over there?’
This was the window at which Bhramar and Govindalal used to stand in’the morning and talk. For seven years, Bhramar had not gone near it nor opened the window. After some effort, Yamini opened the window. ‘There is no flower-garden here,’ she said, ‘only weeds and dead plants, no flowers or green leaves.’
‘There was a flower-garden’there seven years ago,’ Bhramar replied. ‘It has died for lack of care. I have not looked after it for seven years.’
After a long silence, Bhramar spoke again. ‘Get me some flowers from wherever you can. Can’t you see, this is my bridal night. I need a flowery bed.’8
At Yamini’s orders, servants brought heaps of flowers into the bedroom.
‘Scatter them on my bed. This is my “flowery-bed” night.’
Yamini scattered the flowers on her bed. Bhramar’s eyes were streaming with tears. ‘Why do you cry, sister?’ Yamini asked.
‘I have a great sorrow. The day he left for Kashi, I implored the gods with folded hands and tears in my eyes that they must grant me one more meeting with him. I proudly said that if I were a chaste woman we should meet again. But we have not met. Today, on’the day of my death, if only I could see him once, I could forget my seven years’ sorrow’
‘Do you wish to see him?’
‘What do you mean?’ Bhramar said, astounded.
‘Govindalal,’ Yamini said calmly. ‘He’s here. Father sent him news of your illness. He arrived here today—he has come to see you. I was afraid to tell you in your present condition. He too has not the courage to come in.’
Bhramar cried out, ‘Let me see him once, once more in’this life, once again before I die. Let me see him.’
Yamini left and after a while, Govindalal came in quietly. He was entering their bedroom after seven years. Both wept and were unable to speak.
Bhramar gestured to her husband to sit on’the bed. He sat down, weeping all the while. She asked him to come closer. As he came closer, she stretched her hands to touch his toes. ‘Forgive all my faults and bless me that I may be happy in another life,’ she said.
Govindalal could not speak, but he took her hand in his and held it there for a long time. Bhramar silently passed away.
15
BHRAMAR WAS CREMATED ACCORDING TO THE CUSTOMARY RITES. Govindalal came back from the cremation ground but did not speak to anyone.
The night passed and the sun rose on’the morning after Bhramar died, as it always does. The leaves of the trees glistened in’the shade, the dark water of the tank threw up little ripples which glittered in’the sun, and the dark clouds in’the sky turned white. Nature followed its routine as if Bhramar had not died. Govindalal walked out of the house.
He had loved two women, Bhramar and Rohini, both of whom were now dead. He was attracted to Rohini’s beauty. He could not control his unsatisfied desire for beauty. That is why he had forsaken Bhramar and had taken up with Rohini. As soon as he started life with Rohini, he realized that Rohini was not Bhramar; he recognized the difference between love and passion, between happiness and enjoyment, between nectar and poison. He had to drink Rohini’s love, which was poison, but like Nilakantha of Indian mythology, though Govindalal took the poison, he could neither swallow it nor could he spit it out—the poison stayed in his throat. But then’the nectar of Bhramar’s love stayed in his heart day and night. When he was in Prasadpur, engrossed in music with Rohini, Bhramar was in his heart. Even while Rohini was near, Bhramar was in his heart. Bhramar was unobtainable but Rohini could not be abandoned; even’then Bhramar was within while Rohini was without. This is the reason why Rohini had to die so soon. I hope the readers have understood that, else this story has been written in vain.
If only Govindalal, having made proper arrangements for Rohini, had gone to Bhramar and sought forgiveness; if only he had said to her, ‘Forgive me, give me a place in your heart. I don’t deserve to be forgiven but you are full of goodness, you can forgive me’, Bhramar would have forgiven him, for women are forgiving, kind and affectionate; women are God’s highest creation, His own shadow, while men are God’s common work. Women are lights and men’their shadows. Can Light forsake her Shadow?
Govindalal could not do that; partly because of pride, which man is so full of, partly because of the shame which is the evil-doer’s punishment, and partly because of fear which prevents the sinner from facing the virtuous. So it was that Govindalal could not come before Bhramar, he could not face her. After he murdered Rohini, he abandoned all ideas of seeing her. How could darkness come before light?
Even’then Govindalal was consumed every day, every moment, by an unquenchable desire to see her. Had he not possessed and lost a treasure, the like of which no one before had ever possessed and lost? Both he and Bhramar had suffered, but she had been happy in comparison with him; his suffering was beyond human endurance. Death had come to her help, but not to his.
The earth was smiling in’the sunlight when Govindalal walked out into the garden. He was thinking of how he had killed Rohini with his own hands and how he had indirectly killed Bhramar.
We do not know what sort of a night he had spent but
it was probably a terrible night. As he opened the door, he saw Madhavinath. The father-in-law looked at Govindalal’s face. It seemed to bear the shadow of a disease beyond human remedy. Madhavinath walked away. He had resolved not to speak to his son-in-law again in’this life.
As he came out of the house, Govindalal went into the garden below Bhramar’s bedroom. Yamini was right in saying that it was no longer a flower-garden but a jungle of grass and weeds. A few hardy and half-dying plants were still standing, but they bore no flowers. He walked there a long while, until it was late morning and the sun very hot. Feeling tired, Govindalal left the garden.
He walked to the Varuni pond, speaking and looking at no one. It was already half past ten in’the morning. The deep, dark Varuni was glittering in’the strong sunlight. Many men and women were bathing, children were swimming, raising crystal sprays as they did so. Govindalal did not like the crowd. He left for the spot where his beautiful flower-garden used to be. He saw that the cast iron railing was broken, the iron gate was no more and it had been replaced by a bamboo hedge. Bhramar had carefully preserved all his property except this garden. When Yamini asked her about it, she said, ‘Sister, I am going to the land of Yama, so let my earthly paradise go to ruin. I have no one to whom I can leave it.’
Govindalal found no gate and no railings in’the garden. There were no flowering shrubs now, only coarse ulugrass and weeds. The creeper-covered pavilion had fallen down. The stone statues were all broken. Some of the statues, or what was left of them, were standing, while others lay on’the ground overrun by creepers. The roof of his pleasure garden was broken, the Venetian blinds and sashes were also broken or taken away, the marble floor removed. Here no flowers bloomed, no trees bore fruit and maybe the good wind blew in’this garden no more.
Govindalal sat down at the foot of a broken statue. The strong sun burnt down on his head at midday, but he felt nothing. He felt as if he would die. Since the night he had been’thinking of nothing but Bhramar and Rohini, and had seen’their forms alternating with one another before his eyes. The world now seemed filled with those two figures, every tree took the form of Bhramar, and Rohini sat in its shadow; Bhramar appeared before him one moment, only to disappear the next, and Rohini did the same. He heard their voices in every sound; when bathers in Varuni spoke to one another, he heard Bhramar or Rohini or both of them speaking; the rustle of dry leaves sounded like Bhramar coming, the buzz of insects like Rohini running away. The swaying of boughs sounded like Bhramar sighing, the call of the koel sounded like Rohini singing. The world was full of Bhramar and Rohini.
Twelve noon; half past one: Govindalal was still there, at the foot of that broken statue, in’that world filled with Bhramar and Rohini. Much later, Govindalal, who had not bathed nor had his midday meal, was still there; in’that world filled with Rohini and Bhramar, in’that pit of fire. The day came to an end but he did not get up. He was not aware where he was. The people in’the house, not having seen him all day, thought he had gone back to Calcutta. So they did not search for him. As evening fell, the garden’turned dark, stars appeared in’the sky, and the world became silent. Govindalal was still there.
Suddenly, in’that dark, silent, isolated spot, Govindalal became delirious and heard Rohini say aloud, ‘Here.’
He could not remember that Rohini was dead and asked, ‘Here, what?’
Rohini’s voice said, ‘At this time.’
Mechanically he said, ‘Here, at this time, what, Rohini?’
The delirious Govindalal heard Rohini say, ‘Here, at this time, in’that water, I drowned myself.’
Hearing these words, the fiction of his own mind, Govindalal asked, ‘Shall I drown myself?’
Again he heard an answer invented by his deranged mind. ‘Yes, come, Bhramar sends word from heaven’that her virtue has power to redeem us. Atone, die.’
He closed his eyes and fell down, exhausted and trembling, unconscious, on’the stone steps.
In’that state of unconsciousness, he saw Rohini suddenly disappear into the darkness. Illuminating the horizon by degrees, the radiant figure of Bhramar appeared before him. She said, ‘Why should you die? Do not die because you have lost me. There is One who is dearer than I, live and find Him.’
That night Govindalal lay there unconscious. He was found by his people and taken home. Even Madhavinath felt sorry for him, so bad was his condition. They put him under medical care and he recovered in’two or three months. Everyone expected him to live at home, but he did not. One night, without telling anyone, he went away and no one heard from him any more.
When seven years had passed, they presumed that he was dead and funeral rites were performed.
Epilogue
GOVINDALAL’S COUSIN SISTER’S SON,9 SACHIKANTA, WHEN HE CAME OF AGE, inherited his uncle’s property. Every day, Sachikanta would take a walk around the garden which was once Govindalal’s. Now it was a thick jungle of weeds. He had heard the sad story of Govindalal in every detail. As he recalled the story on his daily walks, he decided to restore the garden. He put up another beautiful railing and built a splendid flight of black marble steps going down’to the Varuni; he built up a well-laid garden again, but he was careful not to have shrubs that bore coloured flowers. Among the indigenous plants, he chose bakul and kamini and among the foreign plants he had cypress and willows. In place of the pleasure house, he erected a temple, and placed in it, instead of a deity, an expensive golden statue of Bhramar. The base of the statue bore the following inscription: ‘To her who will equal Bhramar/In joy and in sorrow/In merit and demerit/I shall give the golden statue.’
Twelve years after Bhramar’s death, a mendicant appeared at the door of the temple. Sachikanta was there. The mendicant said, ‘I wish to see what is inside this temple.’
Sachikanta opened the door and showed the visitor the statue. The stranger said to the young man, ‘This Bhramar was mine; I am Govindalal Roy.’
Sachikanta was astounded. He could not speak for a while. When he recovered, he touched Govindalal’s feet and invited him to come to the house. Govindalal declined his invitation. ‘I have come here to give you my blessings. Today is the last day of my twelve years’ life in obscurity.10 I shall go away, now that I have blessed you.’
‘But you must stay and enjoy your own property.’
‘I have found a treasure which is greater than all properties and estates, one that even Kuber, the god of Wealth, could never possess, and it is sweeter and more holy than Bhramar. I have found peace. I have no need of property. Let it remain yours.’
Sachikanta inquired humbly: ‘Have you found peace in asceticism?’
Govindalal answered, ‘No, never. I only put on’this garment because it is suited to a life of obscurity. Only by offering one’s mind at the feet of God can one find peace. He alone is now my property, my Bhramar and more than Bhramar.’
With these words, Govindalal left and was never seen in Haridragram again.
Endnotes
1. Brahma, Vishnu and Mahadeva (Shiva) are the ‘Holy Trinity’ of Hindu mythology. They are the manifestations of the three aspects of God—the Creator, the Protector and the Destroyer, respectively. In mythology, however, they were related; Brahma and Vishnu were married to Shiva’s daughters. Nandi was the famous mythological bull who carried Shiva through the universe. In’this humorous piece, he is Shiva’s companion.
2. These are the names of various stars in Sanskrit, and are important for Indian astronomy and astrology.
3. The author is referring humorously to various characters and events in’the two great epics of India, the Mahabharata and the Ramayana. Sugreeva was the king of the monkeys who helped Rama conquer Lanka and kill Ravana. His name means ‘good neck’, hence the pun.
4. The gardener came from Orissa, a neighbouring state south-west of Bengal. He would have to cross the river Subarnarekha to reach his home town, Cuttack.
5. In Hindu mythology, Chitragupta is the accountant of the god Yama (Death) an
d keeps a book for all the creatures of the universe. The account is settled after death and decisions about heaven, hell and rebirth are made according to this book.
6. In nineteenth-century Bengal, most police constables came from Bihar and other Hindi-speaking provinces of British India.
7. Eighth, ninth, tenth and eleventh months of the Bengali calendar, covering the period from mid-November to mid-March.
8. In’traditional Bengal, on’the nuptial night, the bride and bridegroom slept on a bed decorated with flowers, so the wedding night was usually called ‘flowery-bed night’.
9. In Bengali society, cousins are referred to as sisters and brothers. Since Govindalal had no children, his property passed to his nephew, Sachikanta, who was the son of Govindalal’s female cousin, Sailavati, Krishnakanta Roy’s daughter.
10. For atonement of serious sins, Hindu tradition often demanded twelve years in obscurity and exile. The epics provide many examples of this. Govindalal lived as a mendicant for twelve years for the sins he had committed.
Rajani
Part I
1
YOUR PLEASURE AND PAIN CAN NEVER BE THE SAME AS MINE. YOU AND I ARE not alike. You can never take pleasure in my joys and you would never understand my sorrows. For example, I would be thrilled with the perfume of a tiny flower; but the beauty of a full moon, spread out before my eyes in all its glory, would be lost on me—would you even pay any heed to my tale? I am blind by birth.
How would you know? You have the gift of sight while my life is dark. Unfortunately, I don’t even perceive it as darkness. To my sightless eyes, the dark is light. I have no knowledge of your kind of light.
Does that mean I have no pleasures? Not true. Sorrows and joys between you and me—perhaps come in equal measure. The sight of beauty pleases you and the sound of sounds gives me pleasure. The stems of these tiny flowers are so slim and even slimmer is the sharp point of the needle I hold. I pierce these tiny flowers with that needle and weave a garland—that’s all I have done ever since my childhood—but no one ever wears my garlands, for they say, ‘These are threaded by a blind person.’
Bankimchandra Omnibus: Volume - 1: v. 1 Page 46
